


The Other Side

by indevan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: Caspar had promised him that they would both be alive.  Be alive for peace, whatever that entailed.  No war.  No fighting
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> i'm working on a lot of longform/involved fics, but i was taken aback with my love for these two and quickly wrote this fic because i've missed them

Linhardt’s chest ached and his blood pounded in his ears. He usually made a point never to rush anywhere without a valid reason. Ferdinand called him out on it once when he’d chased him around the monastery trying to get him to train. There usually never was a reason, though, for him to pick up the pace. Everyone, he often thought, could do with slowing things down. He knew this was somewhat hypocritical due to the feverish way he approached his research but that wasn’t exactly physical exertion.

Not that any of that mattered now.

He had sat out the last battle. Edelgard and the Professor had decided that the best usages for Linhardt’s talents were putting him in every  _ other _ skirmish or battle so he would have time for the acrid smell of blood to fade from his nose and for him to stop feeling so lightheaded. Usually, he found this to be an excellent arrangement, but today of all days, he wished that he had been on that battlefield.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have transported him.”

He could hear Edelgard’s voice on the other side of the door when he approached what had become their clinic. Linhardt had spent many nights here when it was asked of him. The injuries of those who made it back to Garreg Mach were typically minor or those that happened close enough for them to be transported here. Injuries on faraway battlefields were treated there or...they weren’t.

“We couldn’t leave him, Edie. You know that.”

Dorothea, this time. Linhardt shoved the door open with both hands. In the clinic was the majority of the so-called Black Eagle Strike Force. Only Petra and Bernadetta were missing. Mercedes was also present, looking tired and drained from where she sat in a wooden chair.

“Where is he?” he asked. He was surprised at how ragged his voice sounded, the words spat out between pants.

It was easy, though, to see where he was. The clinic cots were empty save for one and there was Caspar. His eyes were closed and he was very pale. It was the stillest Linhardt had ever seen him. He was bandaged in a rudimentary way, the blood seeping through the gauze already. The sight turned his stomach even more than it normally did.

“Who did this?” he demanded, gesturing to the shoddy job.

Ferdinand cleared his throat awkwardly. “I worked as quickly as I could. He had already lost quite a bit of blood and I was…”

He looked askance as Caspar’s midsection where the biggest bloom of blood was. Linhardt got it immediately. It was an effort to keep his organs in.

“I tried healing him,” Mercedes said, her already high and lilting voice sounding higher and quieter than usual. “But I was so tired…”

She held her hands out in front of her and flexed her fingers a little. That made sense. Without him, Mercedes was nearly the entire support system for their army.

“Get out,” he said. “All of you. I’ll heal him.”

“Linhardt…” Edelgard began.

Dorothea put a hand on the crook of her elbow. Hubert looked like he had something to say about that--about someone laying a hand on the Emperor--but then thought better of it.

“Edie.”

Her eyes, already stormy on a regular day, looked even sadder. Edelgard tilted her face up towards the other woman’s and then shot her gaze down. If Linhardt didn’t know better, she almost looked sheepish.

“Of course. Give me and update later, Linhardt.”

Lifting her chin back up, she strode from the room. Hubert and Dorothea followed. Mercedes began getting to her feet but she wobbled and nearly fell back down. Ferdinand reached out and gently took her arm in his. Mercedes leaned against him as they slowly left the clinic. She reached up to gently stroke his face. It was a minute gesture, but one that made a smile appear on Ferdinand’s face.

_ Fucking good for them, who cares? _ Linhardt thought sourly.

He dragged the chair that Mercedes had been sitting closer to Caspar’s cot and sat down in it. His hair was matted with sweat and dirt, but no blood. There were flecks and spatters of that on his face and neck, but Linhardt couldn’t find any cuts so he figured that it wasn’t his. No, the bulk of the damage was his torso. A diagonal cut from shoulder to hip. One that was deep. Linhardt drew in a deep breath and held his hands out. Usually, when he healed, he rationed his energy to do the most he could for as many people. Mercedes could follow up if the injuries were still too severe, but otherwise he would leave the rest up to the body itself to heal over time. He didn’t even bother with that now.

Linhardt held his palms facing out and let the magic flow freely. He poured every bit of energy he had into Caspar.

_ Let’s you and I come out on the other side of this war alive and well, okay? _

His own words echoed mockingly in his head. Milky, white magic danced over Caspar’s skin. The sigil of magic pulsed from where it hovered just above his hands. Caspar had promised him that they would both be alive. Be alive for peace, whatever that entailed. No war. No fighting.

He breathed in and out through his nose as he focused more energy on the worst wounds. There was extensive bandaging--thank you, Ferdinand--but he could see that he was healing. He could see the magic illuminating Caspar’s veins, making him glow. Caspar’s grinning face surfaced to his mind.

_ Definitely! _

Not just their conversation. Caspar in his bed two days before the march, stroking Linhardt’s face and pushing his hair back from his forehead before he kissed him. Part of him knew that he had to thank Dorothea for making them move him here. He didn’t know what he would do if they left his best friend, his lover, to die on a cold field without even giving Linhardt the chance to heal him but he had a feeling that his reaction would probably fall under “treason.”

The sigil flickered and Linhardt could feel his energy begin to wane. His hands began to tremble. He drew in a breath through his nose and pushed it out through his mouth. He knew he was nearly at his limit. The magic tapered off, the glow as it flowed through Caspar’s veins disappearing as the magic settled over his bones. Linhardt wanted to move the bandage but he was struck by the fear that his work wasn’t done and he could injure him more. Moreover, his hands were leaden in his lap, so tired that he couldn’t even lift them. Caspar’s face remained still. Linhardt slumped over, pressing his forehead against the tops of his knees. The action hurt his back, but he didn’t move.

He heard the rustle of fabric. Linhardt slowly, tiredly lifted his head. Caspar hadn’t moved. He must have imagined it. Part of him wanted to cry but he was too tired.

Caspar’s face twitched. First at the corner of his mouth then his lips pursed for a moment before going slack again. Linhardt was still mostly bent over and too drained to move, but he kept his head up. Caspar’s throat worked in a swallow and his eyes squeezed shut more tightly for that brief second. Those same eyes fluttered a bit before opening. Caspar turned his head towards him.

“Linhardt?”

A breath he didn’t realize he was holding came out in a great  _ whoosh, _ and Linhardt felt himself spiral into darkness.

\--

He awoke to find himself on one of the cots, staring at the dripping stone of the ceiling.

“Hey!” Caspar was seated next to him, smiling broadly. “You’re awake!”

Linhardt sat up slowly, feeling dizzy and lightheaded.

“Isn’t this supposed to be the other way around?” he asked.

He very nearly fell back on the cot but Caspar caught him.

“Careful,” he said. “Here, have some water.”

A cup appeared at his lips, held by Caspar’s other hand, and Linhardt drank greedily. He knew what happened. He had used up all of his energy to heal Caspar. It had worked. Thank the Goddess that it worked. He pushed the cup away because he knew that his lover would get a bit too overzealous with rehydrating him and turned towards him.

“You’re alright.”

“Thanks to you, Lin.” Another grin.

In the time that Linhardt was out, Caspar had put a shirt on but it was open and showed the scarring that remained. It glittered with healing magic, but he knew that even with it, the marks would remain.

“A little sore, though, ‘cause Ferdinand did my bandages too tightly...but if that’s the only bad thing, I’ll take it.”

“Good. Good.”

Caspar caught him with a kiss. Linhardt was surprised but then melted into it.

“You saved me,” he said, voice uncharacteristically low.

“Of course,” he said, just as quietly.

They were whispering the words into each other’s mouths.

“When that soldier got me on the field, I was thinking about you. About how I might never get to see you again.”

Caspar looked so concerned, his teeth worrying his lower lip and Linhardt wanted to kiss the worry away.

“I’d never let that happen,” he said, surprising even himself with the sentiment.

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Caspar said. “We’re the unbeatable duo, Lin! Yeah!”

He was still close when he yelled that and Linhardt rubbed his ears. Back to normal. Everything was normal. They were alright. For now. The next battle could see Caspar dead. He couldn’t let that happen. Caspar was the only person he could safely say he loved unconditionally, even if that didn’t quite cover it. He liked his friends, liked the professor, but his feelings for Caspar couldn’t be expressed in such terms. He held him close to him, pulling him onto the cot. The small bed groaned with their combined weight, but Linhardt didn’t care.

“Kiss me,” he said.

“Duh!”

Caspar kissed him again, as enthusiastic as he always was. Linhardt kissed him back, mapping his body with his hands. He was careful to avoid the new scarring, and so let them rest on his broad shoulders. He didn’t know what this war entailed, or what would happen to Fodlan at all, but Linhardt was certain of one thing.

He and Caspar were going to make it out on the other side together. Alive and whole. He would make sure of it.


End file.
